Things You Really Don't Want to Know
by Arlene
Summary: Alfred has a secret life


Disclaimer: DC owns them. Not mine, never will be. No money was made from this piece of fiction.

Things You Really Don't Want to Know

By Arlene

In all his many years, Alfred Pennyworth never thought coming out of the closet would be so difficult.

Of course he was old enough not to need his "family's" approval, but having their acceptance of both he and his partner would certainly be needed at the least. What had started so innocently over thirty years ago was kept in secret, not because of shame, but because there was never a good time to bring it up. And due to the very interesting times in which his boys lived, there never *would* be a good time.

Right at this moment, however, was not a good time. It was an awful, embarrassing, humiliating, rather shameful time, in fact. But it was an opportunity, and when opportunity knocks--

"Well? Are you going to open the door?" a breathy voice tickled at his throat.

"Quiet! I'm musing!"

Earlier…

It was Alfred's day off. As it was a free day, he spent most of his morning in the kitchen fixing pastries and easy-to-heat meals for his charges. He also set the timer on the coffeemaker, restocked the refrigerator with snacks, positioned the tea service just so in case guests were brought home, set out the tea kettle and prayed that Master Bruce had finally mastered the art of boiling water before the current kettle was ruined, as were its predecessors. Its many, many predecessors. Having made his final preparations by setting out a bowl, a spoon and a box of cereal, he returned to his room to change. 

Selecting a polo shirt, slacks and a light leather jacket, he grabbed a filled basket and the keys to an inconspicuous minivan. As he drove off the Manor grounds, he called the supply company to inform them of his imminent arrival. The pick up and subsequent drive to the clinic went smoothly. He pulled up along the side entrance and opened the door.

He silently set the still-warm basket on a table in the break room, then stepped back and called out, "Good morning, ladies!" A meager staff consisting of a doctor, two nurses and an intern swarmed into the room, alternately calling out their own greetings, grabbing a pastry, calling out their thanks and leaving as quickly as they had come. Observing their complicated dance, he noted that none of them bumped into each other in the crowded room. Quite a tribute to their teamwork. Picking up a bearclaw and a cup of coffee, he went to Dr. Leslie Thompkins' office.

"Well, good morning, Alfred!" She kissed him on the cheek and hugged him gently as he was still holding her breakfast.

"Good morning, Leslie. My, you're looking radiant this morning." He set down the food and warmly returned her embrace. 

"Ah, that old Pennyworth charm!" she laughed, blushing slightly. "I bet you say that to all the women you meet."

"Indeed I do, madam. Especially if they're about yea high with eyes of blue and a laugh that would make a set of wind chimes envious. And most especially if it's the truth."

"Careful, Don Juan, or I'll swoon, and one of my staff'll have to come in and revive me."

"Yes, that would be very inconvenient. I'd much prefer using *my* 'staff' to revive you." He winked.

Leslie burst out laughing. "Oh, you dirty, old man! Get out there and unload the supplies. And take your staff with you!" She turned him to face the door and lightly smacked his butt.

Even though he expected the slap, he still jumped. "Careful down there, dear lady, or my staff will have an uprising. Then what would we do?" he smirked back at her.

"We'll do what we always do, Pinky. Go and unload the supplies. Shoo!" Still chuckling, she pushed him out of her office. "Becky," she told the intern, "Alfred and I will restock the shelves. While we're at it, we'll be rotating the inventory and probably doing a bit of reorganizing."

"Need any help, Leslie?" The perky receptionist sat up.

"No, the two of us'll be fine. Besides you're still updating those files. I might be a while, so if there're any big emergencies, you can just page me."

"Sure, no problem."

Alfred returned with a large box, and Leslie led him to the back, opening a door for him and flicking on the lights. "Just put it down in that corner, dear," she directed from the entry, still propping the door.

"Over here?"

She stepped inside. "No, next to the--" The door slammed shut. "Oh dear."

"I'm sorry, Leslie, but I don't see any deer here," Alfred quipped. He put the box down, and noted the expression on her face. "Leslie, what's wrong?"

"Oh dear," she repeated. She tried to turn the knob. "The door. It's stuck."

"Stuck? Here, let me try." He jiggled the doorknob and tried to push. "What if we made some noise? Perhaps someone would hear us . . ?"

"No, they're all up front. And a cell phone won't work either. We reinforced the walls after the quake." She slumped against the door. "I'm so sorry, I knew we had problems with the door, and I meant to have it fixed, but so many things are always going on and--"

Alfred put his arms around her and hugged her. "Sh, it's all right. I understand. Besides, it won't be long until someone comes in for something."

Leslie groaned. "No, they won't. We filled up the cabinets to make room in here." She gasped. "Oh goodness! And I told Becky that we'd be a while. Nobody will miss us for a long time!"

Alfred sighed heavily. "And as it's my day off, everyone will take pains not to disturb me. Ah, well, we'd best make ourselves comfortable." With his arms still around her, he leaned against the wall. His foot slipped and the lights clicked off as they tumbled to the floor.

"Eek!" "Oomph!" 

"Leslie, are you all right?"

"Fine, fine. What happened?"

"I think I must've brushed against the switch on my way down. I'm sorry. Here, let me help you up."

"I've never noticed how dark it is in here. But then again, how often do I get stuck in here? OH! . . . Why, Alfred, is that a broomstick, or are you happy to see me?"

"Hm? Oh. Sorry, luv, but it's a broomstick."

"Really? Pity. Hey! Watch those hands, mister!"

"Pardon me. Of course, I'd watch them if I could only see them," he remarked dryly. "If I could find that light switch--"

"Don't get up, Alfred. You might trip over something else in the dark and hurt yourself."

He sighed in defeat. "You're right. And despite the fact we're surrounded by medical supplies, you'd need to see them in order to use them." He reached out and groped for her hand. "Oops, sorry about that."

"Um, oh my, don't worry about that. Just slide your hand up 'til you get . . . mmm, not quite what I had in mind, but that'll do. That'll do very nicely."

He continued stroking. "My, my, stuck a closet on my day off with a beautiful woman. No one to save us. Whatever shall I do?"

"Well, whatever you do, don't stop that. Ooh."

"Maybe instead of stopping that, I'll do this . . . " He gasped. "And no, this time it wasn't a broomstick."

"You know, Alfie, closets tend to get very stuffy. Maybe you'd better take off your jacket."

"Yes, yes, I quite agree. And let me assist you out of your lab coat. There, *much* better." The sound of heavy breathing, rustling clothes and zippers filled the room. "Do I make you randy, baby?"

"Oh, behave!" she giggled.

"That was loosely based on my memoirs, you know. Of course, I have better teeth."

"Oh yes, teeth are good. R-right there. Ah! Harder!" A button pinged as it hit a wall.

"Oh God, pet, yes, yes . . . "

Suddenly, the door opened, and they were revealed in a rectangle of light. Blinking at the glare, the couple heard a gasp, and the door shut, leaving them in darkness once again.

"Was that . . ?"

"Oh dear heavens, I believe it was."

Which led up to Alfred's present musings.

"Well?" she nudged him again. "Are you going to open it?"

"Don't you think we'd best get dressed first? Finding us half-naked is bad enough. Flaunting it outside would be unthinkable."

"You know, you weren't this conservative thirty years ago. Remember that time we streaked--"

"Yes, of course I remember that; I still have the newspaper clippings. I also had more hair back then."

"Bald men are sexy, Alfie. I mean--"

He groaned. "Oh please, please, I beg you, don't bring up Patrick Stewart again."

"Fine, I won't. But I'd still like you to beg."

"Later, baby. I think we'd better deal with this first. His psyche is scarred enough as it is."

"Ah, yes, the ol' 'I saw Mom and Dad doing it' phase. I thought you had The Talk with him?"

"Madam, I am a butler, not Dr. Joyce Brothers. And yes, we had The Talk. However, it wasn't meant to include me."

Alfred pulled out a small flashlight from his pocket and located the light switch. He turned on the light, forcing their eyes to readjust painfully. He glanced at Leslie on the floor, his vision still slightly blurry. "God, you're beautiful."

"I bet you say that to all the women you meet," Leslie replied, straightening her clothes.

He knelt down beside her and held her hands. "No, just one." They kissed, and Alfred had to pull himself away before things went too far. Eyes still closed, Leslie tried to follow him, but he put a finger on her moist lips. "Watch out, pet," he whispered hoarsely, "I think my staff just got rehired."

She sucked the tip of his finger and smiled wickedly. "Good."

They helped each other back into their clothes and stood up unsteadily. Leslie took a close look at Alfred's neck and brushed her fingers against the mark there. "It looks good on you, Alfie," she purred.

"And I'll wear it with pride." He tenderly kissed her forehead and took a deep breath. "Well, as the young people say, 'Reality's a bitch.'"

Leslie held him back and pouted. "But I thought you liked that."

"Oh, baby, I do. Rest assured, I do. And we'll get back to that right after we clear this little mess up. After all, I've got the day off." Turning the doorknob easily, Alfred and Leslie held hands as they left the closet.

End


End file.
